Rebuilding the shattered marble
by Bam it's Rachel
Summary: Eponine is desperate to escape, the war has provided her to become a nurse in a military hospital. French officer Enjolras battalion was attacked in no man's land. He survives the attack but at what cost? Will he heal. Or will the shattered marble never rebuild? Rated M. First world war AU. ON HIATUS MOMENTARILY !
1. Chapter 1

Rebuilding the shattered marble

Authors note: Bonjour ma belles. I decided to start this Enjonine fan fic as I was having major writers block on the other one. And the idea for this one appeared in my history lesson on a Saturday morning (Yes I said Saturday, stupid school!) when we started learning about the First World War. So this is a first world war AU. Rated M for some violence, swearing and maybe rape. There may be smut, don't know because 1) I'm a 14 year old girl who's never actually kissed a boy, so not much of a clue on the sexual side of things. And 2) When I attempt to write smut I have a laughing fit and end up falling of my bed, hitting my head and end up with a slight concussion. But I will warn you in advance if there is.

Disclaimer: If I was Victor Hugo do you think I would be writing my version of my own story?

_Oh you thought the lions were bad,_

_Well they tried to kill my brothers._

_And for every king that dies, _

_Oh they would crown another._

_And it's harder than you think,_

_Telling dreams from one another._

_And you thought the lions were bad,_

_But to kill my brothers._

**Daniel in the den, Bastille**

[The time in which this starts is about July, 1918. One month before the battle of Somme.] Chapter 1- Signing up

_Is this what my life has come to? _I lay on the putrid mattress that I share with my sister. The broken window that had no curtains let some of the cool night air penetrate the narrow room. The stars shone bright in the sky. But the stars allowed me to see the vile box room I slept in. Well, attempted to sleep. I could hear my father and his gang shouting, obviously intoxicated. All my life I've known that I had to be tough. I couldn't be weak. Because weakness would mean my siblings and my life would be ten times worse than it is now. My parents are the dregs of society. Even though we are at war, they still don't have the decency or humanity to not be so cruel and barbaric. They con widows and mothers. Sisters and lovers. Those have all lost someone due to war. Pretending that they can contact their beloved from the next world. Or they steal from people who are just lucky enough to be able to leave with a bit more hope that they can live in this un-fair world, where the state of wealth the family you are born to depicts the rest of your life and even how you die. They murder and have no conscience or good, even ok morals. Any they had lasted two minutes before disappearing, forever.

My life has barely started, but at the rate of the way my life's heading. It will end soon. Due to disease, murder, my father, starvation or even suicide. No one will care that I died. There would be no tears. No service, where family and friends gather to reminisce about the times we had been through together. I'll be dumped in a pauper's grave most likely, unless Gavroche and Azelma bury me. But Azelma and I struggle to see eye to eye. She does all that our parents tell her to. They make her take part in their charades to fool grief stricken people who cling onto shreds of hope. Or to steal from a person who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She is sometimes forced to sell herself. I would be made to if my pride wasn't strong enough to make me rebel against that.

Three things I refuse to do. One is to never sell myself as a prostitute. Two, I will never steal from someone who is as destitute as me. And lastly I'll never kill. No matter whom it is or what they've done. It is not our decision as mere humans to end another's life. Only God can decide when it is our time to live. And our time to die. I don't enjoy stealing, lying or cheating. But I don't have a choice. People say "You can choice right over wrong." But those are the people who have never had to go days on end without enough food or water. Those people don't have clothes that are worn so thin that it's more like paper than fabric. Those people will or have never slept on the street because if you return home, you know that you wouldn't be able to see those streets again. People in my situation turn bitter and hatred consumes them. But I won't turn bitter or resent those who just had a bit of luck.

I secretly signed up to join the Red Cross. I want to help people and the war effort. I would have started at the beginning of the war but they wouldn't allow a waif, a gamine to help. As half the time they couldn't be trusted to not steal. But the amount of soldiers being taken into hospital has increased. Many die there. Many lose themselves there. The hospitals are where you see the real effects. Men become boys. Boys become old men. They have all seen and done terrible. Because of orders, because if they didn't they would be shot for cowardice. Many men are mal-nourished, have dieases due to lack of hygiene. Many are shell shocked and or severely depressed. I want to help because of the freedom it brings me. But also how may help that extra one person from dying from an infection. Or helping that one person to remember how to be whole again and escape the hell they lived in. My eyelids started to feel heavy and I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. Thinking One day more.

*Next day*

I was up before the sun had fully risen. If I want to leave, this will be the only time. I had managed to save enough money for two decent outfits and shoes. By decent I mean wearable second hand clothes and one decent nightgown. They were a bit to big but were not rags. The skirts were pale beige and one was a grey. The blouses were a light blue and a dark green. The one pair of shoes were slightly too small. But will do for now. It had taken me months to get enough money. The only other things I took was an old cross necklace, from when my parents where kind towards me. That I refused to sell because it reminded me that there was always a light at the end of the tunnel. And the only other thing I brought was an old copy of one of Voltaire's works. Not the romance but the one of the ones that made you think and question the way we live our lives. I put all of these in my old, worn messenger bag. I chose to wear the blue shirt and beige skirt. Before quickly leaving the rancid flat. _Goodbye to the hell I was living._

I had my forms in my hand as I entered the train. The first one I had ever been on since my childhood. I was working in a hospital in Toulouse [not sure if there was one there, but it's the only city I can think of in the north of France rather than Paris and Calais.] I had a nervous excitement exploding inside of me. "Is this seat taken?" A girl my age asked. She had curly red hair and deep hazel eyes. She had pale skin that was dotted with freckles. "No." I said politely. I noticed that she was also better off than me. "My name is Muischetta Dubois, what is yours?" She asks friendly. I bite my lip. I shouldn't say my last name. Once I'm known that my last names Thénardier I'll never be able to have a future. "My name is Éponine Jondrette." I replied, covering my nerves by putting a small smile on my face. "Are you going to the hospital?" She said once the train started moving. I gave a small nod. "Same here. I hope that it's not like people describe it." We talked for the most of the journey. I was beginning to enjoy Muischetta's company. She was a lovely person and kind. I was hoping that I shared a room with her.

We got off the train. There were about twenty girls altogether going to the hospital. We were escorted there by a matron. She was called Madame Toussaint. She was rather round and had more facial hair than any man I've met. She led us to the hospital. It was an old convent that was changed into a hospital due to the increase of patients needing treatment. We were led to the dormitories in the opposite end. "Settle in and go to bed. You need to be up at five tomorrow." She then left us. I was in a room with Muischetta and two other girls. One with hair as dark as night itself and emerald green eyes that reminded me of a cat. The other girl had beautiful golden ringlets that fell half way down her back and eyes as deep as the ocean. I had a feeling that I already knew her.

We picked our beds. I went to the one that was next to a window. We awkwardly went to talk to each other. "Muischetta?" I asked after a few moments of extreme quietness. "Yes Ponine." She said looking at me. "Is it going to be terrible tomorrow?" I was nervous about what I was going to see. "I don't know." She sighed. We all introduced ourselves. The girl that had a feline air about her was called Matilda. She was obviously was a bourgeoisie. The other girl had a voice like a bird. It was soft and delicate. Her name though snapped all my memories back. Her name was Cosette. _And I was finally free, but the past always catches up. _

_Authors note: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW. I NEED OPINIONS (GOOD OR BAD) TO BE INSPIRED TO CARRY ON._

Courfeyrac: Enjolras theirs someone climbing the barricade.

Enjolras: Merci Courfeyrac. Who goes there!

*Enjolras raises gun.*

Me: Don't shoot! I'm here to support.

Enjolras: You aren't allowed to support, you are a women. A barricade is no place for ladies.

Me: I thought you were fighting for equality.

Enjolras: We are.

Me: But your being a hypocrite for not allowing women to fight. That sounds very unequal. *Raises eye brow.*

Enjolras: ….

Courfeyrac: She's got you there Apollo.

*Enjolras goes and sulks in the corner.*

Joly: She needs to be decontaminated, she may bring germs.

Me: Shut up Joly…


	2. Chapter 2

Authors note: Yeah two updates in a day. But lord knows when I will next get a chance to update properly again. I have exams in two weeks. Then I'm on a trip to France and Belgium for week. Also I have no internet unless I'm in the library. I will be updating my other fanfic at the same time as this one. Anyways I've missed writing for you lot.

Disclaimer: I totally own les mis, I also own Aaron Tveit (not really but I wouldn't mind though)

_I've been up in the air,_

_Out of my head_

_Stuck in a moment of emotion._

_In a moment I destroy_

_Is this the end I feel?_

_Up in the air_

_Fucked up on life _

_All the laws I've broken_

_Loves I sacrificed_

_Is this the end? _

**30 seconds to mars- Up in the air **

Chapter 2- First day

"Chetta, Chetta, CHETTA!" I say shoving her. I was the first one up so tried to get everyone else up as well. So far not so good. "Five more minutes." She mumbled turning onto her side. I ended up poking her till she woke up. "Why do you hate me?" She glared finally sitting up. "If I hated you I would of left you sleep in a get fired." Rolling my eyes. She groaned when she saw that it was sun rise. "I hate mornings." She grumbled getting out of bed. I went and got changed. Cosette and Matilda then got up. Our room wasn't bad. I had Chetta, who I was starting to love like a sister. But I didn't trust Matilda. She had a sly type of nature. Cosette, I felt a lump rise in my throat why her? Of anyone else I could meet. Why her? It's not like I dislike her or hate her. But I hated how I treated her.

"_Cosette, get your scrawny arse here now!" My mother screeched at a small, precariously thin girl. "Yes Madame." She said her voice barely over a whisper. "Clean these floors then get water from the well." She commanded. Before turning to me. "Mama." I said. My five year old self hadn't realized how malicious and evil my parents were. "Éponine my beautiful girl. Some girls know how to dress and behave." She said while straitening my skirt. Cosette who stood and obeyed. Who was there but never was. She was a small as a splinter from a tree. Dark with dirt. Hair a mess of knotted, dirty curls. Eyes forlorn with despair. Clothes that was more like strips of worn fabric. She cleaned the floor and went to the well. She returned a while later with an older gentleman._

_He was carrying the bucket. Cosette hiding half behind him. "I found this child in the woods. Without a helper or a friend." He said dropping the old rusty bucket. "I've come on behalf of her mother. Who has gone to rest with God" My mother faked a gasp of horror. "Bless her soul." My mother said quietly. Not meaning it. "I am here to take Cosette a way. How much are you willing for me to pay?" The man asked. Cosette's eyes wide in surprise. "1500 francs." My father said stubbornly. The man handed over the money. Cosette then left the inn forever. _

_The money was spent by her parents on gambling and drinking. As soon as they had the money it was gone. The inn then lost money, due to people noticing how dishonest the inn keepers were. The inn was lost and they were all left destitute. I hadn't been their daughter since the day Cosette left. She became the servant to her parents. Looking after her brother and sister. It made her feel bad. Remembering how she teased Cosette endless. Or made her work more difficult. They ended up moving to Paris were Thénardier, no longer "Papa or father." Became associated with the Patrion-Minette and life became a living hell. Gavroche was kicked out at a young age and I hadn't seen him since. He must be thirteen now. Azelma was her father's favorite and always mad life difficult for me. Oh how the cards have changed now._

"Now, young Mademoiselles, today we are going through your duties and jobs. You must all pay attention." Madame Toussaint told us after breakfast. I was excited to start work, but worried about what I'll see. "You will all be placed on different wards. A few of you working on each. You will all be cleaning, serving food at first and just looking after the patient's wellbeing. Until we know you'll be able to help with operations and such a like." She carried on. Great playing maid. Better than being at home though. "You will wear your uniforms that you are wearing now until your shift is over. Sundays will be your day off. You can sleep until 10 am but will need to then get up for chapel. Questions?" She said finishing off. No one said anything. "Excellent, we will hand you sheets with details on where you will be and your shift times." They handed us the sheets of paper. Luckily I had learnt how to read and write before my parents treated me like a slave. I had wards 4 and 5. I was working from 7:30 am to 7:30pm on Mondays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. On Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays I was working 7:45pm to 3:45am.

We were given a tour of the hospital. Saw the patients. Some were unconscious and just brought in. Some talking and looking like they will be better soon these were the 'hopeful' ones. Some were silent, staring into space. Their eyes were empty. These were the men I felt most upset for. They were the ones that had lost hope and their identities. They were the ones who were trying to numb themselves to the world. They will be the ones who seem fixed but are still broken. They are shattered remains of the men they used to be. And may never be again. They are the 'broken' ones. We were to start our jobs after lunch. I was nervous of dealing with the broken ones. They would be the hardest to help.

Lunch was a watery vegetable soup and a slice of bread. We were given a cup of water to drink with this. We then started our works. I got to my wards. The wards were long hallways filled with beds, tables and a few chairs. Some men were chatting amongst themselves, some slept and then there were the broken ones. I started to check the men to see if they were fine. The talking ones were very cheeky or talked to me quietly. The sleeping ones carried on sleeping. The broken ones seemed not to hear. I was going to ask a young man with curly black hair and dark hazel eyes. "Bonjour mademoiselle." He said looking up from his meal. "Bonjour Monsieur, anything you need." I asked him he laughed and said. "Nothing but a pretty girl to kiss me and a bottle of wine." He said winking. "Sorry we are out of both." I laughed. Rolling my eyes at him. "Would you mind posting these letters?" He asked giving me a couple of envelopes. "Yes monsieur." I answered, about to leave. "Mademoiselle, call me Courfeyrac." He answered before I left. "Ok mons- Courfeyrac." I then left to post his letters. Before going onto the next man. He had curly golden hair. His blue eyes that once may have shown life. But are now dull and lifeless. He had slight stubble on his chin. Pale skin that was slightly tanned. He was staring at the wall. Nothing else. "Monsieur, do you need anything." I asked hoping for a reply. "No." He answered quietly. "Are you sure?" I asked cautiously. "No." HE said again. I went to move on to the next person. Just hearing a small "Why didn't I die, why did he sacrificed his life for mine?" I turned to see a small tear escape the man's eyes.

Author's note: Enjolras and Courfeyrac are here. Some other barricade boys will arrive soon. Please, please, please review. For those reading my other fanfic, it will be updated anytime from tomorrow till Sunday. Until then ma petite enfants.

Me: Joly, put down the medicine journal, guide thing.

Joly: No! I have bubonic plague I am sure of it.

Me: Just because Courfeyrac told you have boils on the back of your neck mean you actually have one. He was joking. And the plague hasn't been around for centuries.

Joly: But I have been ill for the last few weeks…..

Enjolras: Courfeyrac why did you act so childish and pull that joke on Joly?

Courfeyrac: I was bored.

Enjolras: *Hands Courfeyrac cleaning supplies.* Clean every spot of the barricade. Then ask Joly to inspect it.

Me: Good punishment.

Enjolras: Shut up you….

Me: What is your problem?

Enjolras: YOU!

Me: How am I problem?

Enjolras: You are disorganized, loud, immature (list goes on… and on….. and on.

Me: I am not any of those things. *Sneakily goes and cleans up mess.*


	3. Chapter 3

Authors note: Hello, thank you to tragic angel eyes for reviewing. I just realized that I got the wrong date for the battle of Somme *face palm*, it was in 1916 not 1918. Anyways, this chapter we will be looking at Enjolras's p.o.v because I thought we need to know who saved our little Enjy. I got a lot of my ideas for this chapter in English, where we are researching war poetry. And we read Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen. Read this poem if you have a chance, it is an amazing piece of English literature.

Disclaimer: Yes I'm Victor Hugo. I am writing this from beyond the grave because I was bored. I also didn't like how Éponine had fallen in love with the wrong person *sarcastic eye roll*

_What would you do if your son was at home,_

_Crying all alone on the bedroom floor_

_Because he's hungry._

_And the only way to feed him is to sleep with a man_

_For little bit of money and his daddy's gone_

_In and out of lockdown_

_I ain't got a job now,_

_He's just smoking rock now_

_So for you this is just a good time_

_But for me this is what I call life._

**Bastille- What would you do?**

Chapter 3- Why are you haunting me?

Enjolras's p.o.v

"_We are to move into No man's land. Our artillery fire should have damaged the Fritz trenches." The commanding officer said addressing as soon as the echoing shells had turned silent. The sky was plunged into the hard darkness of night. There was a bitter wind. It was always something with the weather. It had been pouring with heavy rain all day. The mud in the trench was like a cold, sticky mess that could seep into everything. Like an over flowing river in the middle of winter. If it wasn't cold and damp. It was boiling and humid. At night you couldn't sleep due to the numerous German raids. Or the sobs of men who were broken. It was horrifying hearing the cry of a man broken in spirit. Many of my comrade's normally high spirits were diminishing quickly. _

The longer this war would go on the less hope we have. My battalion consisted of a mixture of men. Combeferre, a medium height man with straight brown hair. He was extremely smart and philosophical. Never rude or ignorant but kind and thoughtful. There was also Courfeyrac a young man with a joyful nature but turns serious and dead pan when needed to be. He had the joy of a young boy. Always receiving letters from different women. We also had a young doctor amongst us called Joly. He always checks himself to see if he was ill. Bit of a hypochondriac but always cheerful. Then we have Feuilly and Jehan who were an artist and romanticist. Bossuet who was the most unlucky but one of the happiest (if appropriate to say in such circumstances.) men in the battalion. Bahorel who was a big gossip. I had one of my childhood friends with me in the group. Marius Pontmercy a quiet lad who was normally cheerful. I have many memories from our shared childhood. But when we became older we walked our separate ways. He is also a romanticist and an optimist. The opposite of me, a realist and more of a man of logic not emotions. And Grantaire the man who irritated me endless. He was a cynic, pessimist and also drunken. He could of amounted to something of use to society but he instead drunk his sorrow away. Trying to find life's problems at the bottle of a wine bottle to the

Going out to no man's is death being handed to you on a plate? You go up the ladder, you get shot. You turn back and get shot for cowardice .So death by your friends or death by German bullets. Many of these men are too young to even though what this war is for. This war is war about countries pride. Who has the most land, has the biggest and most powerful weapons. It could have been just another war in the Balkan's but treaties and allies had to be called in. Vengeance was seeked. Because two significant people died*, millions of others now have too. Old empires are being replaced by new ones. Old traditions transitioning to new ones.

People at home, pressing young men to sign up. Young men who are more like boys, the war has stolen their innocence, their youthful ways and most future. If they don't sign up because they conscientious objectors. They are labeled as cowards, slackers or turn coats. These boys are too young to understand nationalism and patriotism. I was so deep in my thoughts that when that the whistle made me jump out of my thoughts.

_We clambered up the wooden ladder rungs. Riffles in our hands. Fire opens against us. Many surrender to cruel metal. Some lie helplessly against barbed wire. Some lying in rancid pits of water littered with shrapnel. The mud is a thick paste, making running even more difficult. The field is filled with smoke, the air was thick was chaos and panic. Friends lying dead in the field. Bahorel and Bossuet lying side by side in a ditch. Bullet holes in their head. Feuilly on the barbed wire. I felt my eyes fill with tears. I can't turn back. Death is evitable for everyone. I might as well die for something rather than cowardice. I ran forwards. Taking cover. Dodging bullets. I make the out the outlines of my other friends. I was going to turn back. It was a hopeless. There's no hope of hell surviving this anyway. I turned around and ran like the coward I am. I ran and ran. Tripping on the bodies of the fallen. My friends, my brothers why did this war kill you? Why didn't our homeland, our Patria keep us safe from this horror? I got up and ran some more. I was 20 meters from the trench where I felt a sharp piece of cold metal shredding my skin. Hitting my shoulder bone. I cried out. For no one to reply. No one but another barrage of bullets hitting me in my left leg, left arm and abdomen. The searing pain was too much. I fell in a ditch and curled up in a ball. I'm pathetic. I can't even fight properly. I'm a disgrace to mankind. Maybe I'll do something right and die here with my friends. _

"_Enjolras get the hell up. You're not going to die now!" I heard someone shout at me. My eyes were fighting to keep shut. "Leave me die. I can't live anymore!" I cry. Tears falling. "Shut up Apollo, and take my hand." I opened my eyes to see a disheveled Grantaire next to me. Bleeding heavily from his left arm. "Save you, I deserve to die!" I hiss he snorts in reply. "Always trying to be the hero Apollo." He rolls his eyes. "How do you know my first name?" I mutter confused. "Grantaire knows everything. Know you are going to let me take you back to the trench were you can then become the stoic, marble leader we all love to annoy. "I roll my eyes but let him help me up and lead me to the trench. 10 meters, 5 meters. The trench is growing closer. My leg and abdomen are still heavily bleeding. They cause a moan of pain to escape my lips. We get to the trench. "Apollo, you go first." I just do what I'm told. "No complains. Wow." He mutters sarcastically. I glare at him. He turns to climb down. But only to be shot in the chest by a piece of cold, hard metal. "Grantaire!" I shout as he falls into the trench backwards. He's bleeding heavily, tears edging down his face. I hobble over to him. "Why did you save my life? You could have survived this war." I cried out. "My life is cold and dark Apollo. Please never forget this. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel. It may dim or seem far away but it's always there. You'll survive this war. Go home and do something with your life. If it was me." His breathing was becoming labored. His skin becoming colder by the second. Face becoming paler. "If it was me, I would waste away in my cynicism and drown myself in my alcohol. Just remember me in the future and I'll be alive. One request though." His voice was barely was a whisper. "What Grantaire?" I ask crying. "Fall in love, find someone to lead you to the light." With that his voice fades. Head flops back. Body relaxes. He's gone. The man, who had saved me, sacrificed himself. It was my fault he had died._

My eyes shot open. It had been months since Grantaire had died. Since I had caused him to die. Why did he die for me? I should have died. Tears streamed out of my eyes. The physical wounds were little more than scars. But every night or every time I closed my eyes I saw my last night in the trenches. I'll never forgive myself for his death. My sobs were becoming louder. But I couldn't stop. Months of silence had built up ready to explode. I saw women carrying a candle come in. She was small with thick brown hair. And slightly tanned skin. "Are you ok monsieur?" She asked concern filled her voice. "Yes." My voice cracking. "It doesn't seem like it monsieur." She answered. I ignored her. "Monsieur, I don't want to pry but to be silent is hurting you. You won't be able to heal if you can't let go. The past is gone. Let go." She had a book in her hand. She placed the candle and book on the side. "I can't let go. Why should I, my friends…" My voice broke again. "My friends are dead in a grave and I'm alive. How is that fair. How can I let go that the fact that my friends had lovers, family and a life at home. Yet they sacrificed their lived for their country. "I said sharply. She let out a soft sigh. "If I can't help you now, ask me when you are ready. But your friends wouldn't want you to be feeling like this. They would want you to live your life for them. To move on and to remember them by the good times not the bad." She went to turn around with her candle. "Thank you mademoiselle…" I said quietly. She gave a small smile. "Call me Éponine monsieur." She turned and left.

Authors note: É/E interactions woo! I hope you liked my Enjolras p.o.v? But sorry about the rant about world war one, it just frustrating to look back and think that the whole war could have been avoided if Franz Ferdinand (Austria's heir.) and his wife Countess Sophie hadn't taken that route in Sarajevo that taken them past Principe. But even if that happened WWI would of happened anyways because Europe was being run by greedy rulers. And you can prove that Germany was planning for war as the Schiflen plan (sorry if spelt wrong.) Had been designed if Germany went to war with the Triple Entaunt (sorry if its spelt wrong.) Who were Britain, France and Russia. And because this plan went completely wrong as General Schiflen died just before the plan was put into action. And the new man in charge didn't want to gamble. And completely fucked up any chance of The Axis winning the war. Because they planned to defeat France and take over the government before attacking the Russians on the western front. Sorry about the history lecture but as you can see I'm passionate about history. Please read and review.

*If you read the lecture above, you can see I said two people died. Franz Ferdinand as his wife Countess Sophie.

Me: Gavroche…

Gavroche: What?

Me: Why are you so adorable?

Gavroche: Don't know, it's just a gift.

Courfeyrac: If he's cute then I'm smoking *attempts to act hot*

Me: Go away. Speaking to Gavroche.

Courfeyrac: Why speak to Gavroche? HE's not as hot as this * points to himself*

Me: Whatever helps you sleep at night…?

Gavroche: Bye Courf

Me: Gavroche do you want cookies. *Shows tray*

Courfeyrac: I want cookies…

Me: Fuck off Courf…

Courfeyrac: *Mutters to himself*

Me: Is he gone?

Gavroche: Yes.

Me: Gavroche can you do me a favor?

Gavroche: Ok, but it'll cost you…

Me: *Hands over rest of cookies.*

Gavroche: Ok, what is it.

Me *Whispers in Gavroche's ear.*

Gavroche: I'll do it now.

_To be continued_


	4. Chapter 4

Author notes: Hello again, I'm writing this from my dorm room where I wonder why it's always raining in Wales? Anyway I've been having the worst luck all weekend. First of all it started Saturday and I have to be in school . And I have double physics. When I find out that some of my 'friends' have been bitching about me behind my back. Then in our school we wooden plaques on the wall. Then I was on my way to geography when this giant wooden plague which was from the 1800s fell on my foot. The universe is out to get me. Then I go with my roommate and friend to watch after earth (brilliant!) Two of the boys in my year turn up. What's worse one of them is my crush and my roommate forced us to sit next to each other and hold hands (had a major heart attack.) But he started swearing in Spanish :'( . Then I ended up awake until one in the morning as my roommate decided it would be fun to clean. Then all day Sunday it was raining. There was no one in school apart from the boys, my one roommate and my friend in the other girl's house.

But anyways let's get down to business …

Disclaimer: Do I look like a 19th century man to you?

Chapter 4- Hell isn't just in your imagination.

Éponine's p.o.v

_It's a drop in the ocean,_

_A change in the weather._

_I was praying that you and me might_

_End up together._

_It's like wishing for rain,_

_As I stand in dessert._

_Because I'm holding you closer than most because you are my heaven._

**Ron Pope- A Drop in the Ocean**

Walking back from my night shift, I was still haunted by the man's screams of terror. His thrashing about wildly. A thin layer of sweat was on his skin. Whatever it was that had haunted him must have been bad. His sculptured features looking terrified and childlike. Over the weeks I'd been here I noticed that he was hiding a grief of some sorts. When you looked into his eyes you see heart wrenching guilt. He's eyes are a lifeless blue. They are lined with deep shadows from sleepless nights. His face had light stubble on them from neglect of shaving. He was broken mentally.

I ended up outside the room. I started to change into my nightgown. I crawled back into my bed. Night shifts were the worst. That's when you hear the agonized screams and muffled cries of the young men. This war had taken away their happiness and livelihood. They cried like a child who had fallen over and have been steadily buying more books. Many of them are ones by Voltaire or Robespierre. I am not a fan on romance as they lose my interest almost instantly. The only love story I can read is Antony and Cleopatra. This is because they are equals in love. And they are both unconditionally in love even though the rest of the world is against it. And that they can't live without each other.

I fell asleep quickly. My sleep was dreamless and unrest full. I woke up after four hours sleep. Still tired from the night before. But sleep refused to come. I gave up trying to sleep. Reaching for my favorite book, my first one. It wasn't anywhere in my room. "Gah I left it in the wards." I muttered annoyed. I ended up settling up reading a different book.

Enjolras's p.o.v

Rubbing the sleep of my eyes. Wow I actually slept. I thought bitterly. The last few months I had slept less and less and less. As soon as I fall asleep, the dreams haunt me. I remember being in the trenches. I remember being on lookout in the dugouts beyond the frontline. Next to our enemies. The gas attacks. How a man looks when he has inhaled a mouthful of toxic chlorine gas. How those men thought they were men signing up for an unknown cause. Little did they know that they were signing the death certificate.

Sitting up I noticed that the nurse that came in last night had left her book. I scoffed, probably some silly romance book. But looking at it I noticed it was one of the works of Voltaire. Very old and worn. How odd, I've never seen young women want to read anything of politics. Normally they avoid it at all costs. I picked up the book and started to read it. The familiar words remind me from before the war. It was and still is my favorite book. How intriguing? I mused thinking about the petite women called Éponine.

I hadn't noticed the hours going by. Meals had gone past and now it was dark. I was waiting for the book's owner to reclaim it. I had almost finished the book when the nurse started checking on us. I saw the dark haired grisette head towards me. A look of relief on her face. "You've had my book?" She exclaimed. "Sorry mademoiselle, you left it here last night and I haven't read anything remotely as interesting as this for too long." I said as she gave a soft smile. "I told you monsieur call me Éponine." She said setting her candled down. "If am to call you Éponine, you may call me Enjolras." I say back to her. "Are you feeling better today mons- Enjolras?" She asks carrying on her job. "Actually I have. The book gave me something to do. Instead of sitting here in silence and doing nothing." I said to her. I liked speaking to Éponine she was kind hearted and clearly intelligent.

"Would you like me to bring you some more books Enjolras?" She asks politely. "I wouldn't like to burden you." I replied without thinking. She gave a small snort of disagreement. "It wouldn't be a burden. I have plenty of books in my room and I bring them with me on my shifts so that I have something to do when I'm not needed." She said returning her face to its normal deadpan expression. "I'll bring some books to you tomorrow." She said turning around. "Isn't tomorrow your day off?" I ask raising an eyebrow. "I know but it doesn't matter, I'm only bringing you books." She laughed before carrying on to check other patients. I fell asleep looking forward for tomorrow strangely.

Author's note: Sorry that this chapter is a filler. But there was some é/e moments. I don't know when I'll next update as I have exams on Wednesday till Saturday. Then on Monday I'm going to France for the week. I'll hopefully update this and my other fanfic by then. (If you haven't checked please do it's called falling apart!) Anyways thank you for reading and please ,please ,please with a cherry on top review.

Me: *whispering to Gavroche* Ready, one, two…. THREE! ATTACK!

*Me and Gavroche jump on a sleeping, yes I said sleeping Enjolras and steal his red coat.*

Enjolras: Give it back !

Me: Nope

*Jumps out of the barricade away from Enjolras.*

Enjolras: You'll be back.

Me: *muttering* With back up.


	5. Chapter 5

+Author's note: I am so sorry for this very overdue update. A month is too long but I haven't been motivated to update this story as not many people are reading this story never mind reviewing. I also went on a trip to Ypres and Paris. If you don't know Ypres was a major battle area during world war one as it was a key point in the Allies victory. But I also visited the Somme, Mennen Gate and Langemark as well as Tyne Cot. Amazing trip especially Paris. Even though I was almost ran over twice due to the mad drivers there. I also had school exams. Great English paper story. The question was "write a soliquey (sorry if spelt wrong) on a character from the last book you read." That was Les Mis and I used Grantaire and his drinking. 17 out of 20 marks. Lost the 3 due to grammar and spelling. Still not going to complain though…

Disclaimer: Victor Hugo is dead… I'm very much alive so therefore I'm not Victor Hugo.

Chapter 5: A long standing agreement

_**I need more dreams**_

_**And less life.**_

_**I need that dark.**_

_**And a little more light**_

_**I cry tears,**_

_**You'll never see**_

_**So fuck you**_

_**Can go cry me an ocean.**_

_**And leave me be,**_

_**You are what you love.**_

_**Not who loves you.**_

**Save Rock and Roll- Fall out boy ft Elton John**

Éponine's p.o.v

Over the next coming weeks me and Enjolras fall into a long standing agreement that I'll provide him these books and he will try and be more responsive towards the doctors and nurses. But only feedback I get of the other staff is that he only really trusts me. He doesn't speak much to the other patients. I enjoy my talks with Courfeyrac and some off the other men. A young man called Joly has come in from the front with a lot of damage to his nerves in his left arm. But when he is not grilling us with questions about his health. (He asked me once to hold a mirror behind his head to see if he had a rash that was non-existent.) He was a cheerful man who never had a bad thing to say to anyone. But enjoyed speaking to him. And so does Musichetta who blushes when Joly ever comes into topic. But one person I couldn't will myself to ever trust is the catlike girl called Matilda. Her eyes gave her feline air about her. And how her black hair falls straight lines down her back when down looks like the soft fur on a cat. I know from other girls that she is really rich and spoilt. Surprise, I thought inwardly. If Matilda was a cat. Then Cosette was a beautiful nightingale. She was a lark as a child. But changed into a nightingale. Her voice sounded like the birds beautiful song.

Musichetta would be parrot. Beautiful creature. But she doesn't half talk. And is always useful for finding the latest gossip. In her defence she is a good friend, stubborn and loud. But she is like a sister to me. I was jolted from thoughts when Musichetta came to me, with a sly grin. "What are you up to Chetta?" I ask warily. "You have been requested by a young man on the wards. One who speaks to no one?" I raised an eye brow and allowed her to continue. "Now this young man has looks that Gods would be envious of. Eye's deeper than the oceans that they resemble. This young man also broods like there's no tomorrow. Hmmm who am I talking about?" She says pretending to stroke an imaginary beard. "Why has Enjolras requested me?" I asked grabbing two books. Probably why he wanted me to see him. "Don't know, didn't say. But you will tell me everything! And I mean EVERYTHING!" She said deadly seriously. "As long as you don't tell the whole hospital. Also I'll be talking to, what's that man's name…. hmm. Oh yeah Joly. So if you say anything, it will come back at you." I say, trying to burst into laughter as Chetta turned bright red.

I left the room and went down the long winding corridors and narrow staircases to the wards. I checked the books I brought. I knew that Enjolras had read most of my books, so it had become harder to find books he hadn't read. Oh it is going to be fun to see his reaction when I give him pride and prejudice. I got to Enjolras's bed and I saw him nervously twiddling his hands. "Bonjour Enjolras, now why did you call me?" I say getting his attention. "Bonjour Eponine, sorry I called you on your day off. But I'm allowed to go outside now the weather and I is better. But I need someone to go with me. And I trust you…" He drifted off. I gave him a small smile. "Sorry I started rambling. I was asking if you would like to go outside with me, if you would like to." He sounded so nervous, unlike his normal self. "I would love too. I'll just go and see the doctor on duty to sign us out and I'll get you a wheelchair." He furrowed his brows at this. "I'll be fine without one." He said stubbornly. I shook my head before saying. "Enjolras, you haven't walked properly for a long time. Take the wheelchair for when you tire." He sighs. "Fine but I will not spend all my time in it." Enjolras warned making me laugh lightly. Before leaving to get a wheelchair.

"Thank you for spending your only day off with me. I know you didn't have to." Enjolras said as we walked through the grounds. Earning a few odd looks from other nurses and patients. "It is alright, I wasn't doing anything." We sat down on a bench. "It feels nice being outside again. I felt like I was going to go mad in there." He said after a few minutes silence. "I bet. Enjolras I have a question if you would permit it." I ask cautiously. "What is it?" He says looking in my eyes. "Why do you not speak to the other patients?" He sighed, looking away. "I just can't look them clear in their eyes without feeling guilt." I nodded, not wanting to push him for more information. "Would you like to read?" I ask him passing him a book. It was The Social Contract by Rousseau. "Why not, do you have a book?" I show him my book. "Hmmm never put you down as a poetic reader." I laugh lightly. "I have a soft heart when it comes to Shakespeare's work." He rolled his eyes and turned to read.

It was getting dark by the time we finally get up to leave it was turning into evening. "We best be going now." Enjolras said getting up. "I enjoyed today Enjolras. Perhaps we should do this again?" I said as we started walking. "I agree. Sorry for you losing your only day of for me." He said looking at me. "It's nothing. I had fun." He raised an eyebrow. "Fun, reading Shakespeare's poetry with a madman." He chuckled. I had realized in the months I had spent with Enjolras that he was rather funny and charming. But I suspect he had the capability to be terrible, if needed. We were just outside the wards where we were standing in front of each other. He raised his hand to move a strand of my hair out of my face. "Goodnight mademoiselle Eponine. I'll see you tomorrow." Enjolras said after a moment's silence. "Goodnight monsieur Enjolras." I said before signing us as in and returning the un-used wheelchair. Sighing, I am going to be bombarded when I get back.

Author's note: Hello again. You are all thinking who is this freak, why aren't you in an institution. I am it is called HOME. Yes I am home for eight weeks. Mwhahaha time for updating this story and my other ones. *Hint, Hint. Nudge, Nudge!*

Again sorry for the super, super, super long wait. But I had no inspiration for this story. Please review!

Now we go live to the barricades:

Enjolras: It has been a month and I still haven't gotten my red coat back. *Cries in the corner.*

Combeferre: Why don't you buy a new one?

Enjolras: *Gives glare* Buy a new one? No you can't just buy a new red coat. What a preposterous idea. Patria bought it for me for my birthday.

Combeferre: *Face palm* Enjolras, you do know Patria isn't human…

Enjolras: I know I'm not an idjit

Courfeyrac: Someone is climbing the barricade!

Everyone else: *Groans*

Joly: Not again…

Me: Hello again… *Evil smile*

Combeferre: Have you got Enjy's coat?

Me: *Bites lip* about that coat… yeah umm IkindadroppeditinthesewerswhilechasingThénardieran dputitinthewaswhereitturnedPINK…

Everyone else: What the fuck!

Combeferre: All I got dropped in sewers, washed and …. Oh my Patria

Enjolras: Hey Patria's mine!

Grantaire: Oh God, who's pink coat is that?

Me: Um… Enjy's *I drop the coat and hide behind the bar.

Enjolras: You… are… dead…. *Chases me around the barricade.*


End file.
